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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29629824">Companionship</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlockPatronofWriting/pseuds/WarlockPatronofWriting'>WarlockPatronofWriting</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Diamond &amp; Pearl &amp; Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Clothed Sex, Cynthia is unapologetically herself, Cyrus is not emotional well adjusted, Dirty Talk, F/M, Finger Sucking, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand &amp; Finger Kink, Post-Game(s), Power Dynamics, Power Exchange, Smut, again...uh...welll it counts more then not?, aro/ace vibes, but nothing stated outright, not that it's important to this mess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:55:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29629824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlockPatronofWriting/pseuds/WarlockPatronofWriting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cyrus had a firm picture of what this rejection would look like. Cynthia ignored his expectations and left Cyrus with nothing to do but try and keep up with her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akagi | Cyrus/Shirona | Cynthia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Companionship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm going to handwave everything about the game. I'm not here for that. I'm here for questionable dynamics, different approaches to sex, romance and emotions. Uh....Please enjoy?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The kitchen was dark, apart from the light over the stove. The small clouds of lazy steam rose from the cups as Cynthia placed them down onto the kitchen table.</p><p>They were odd cups, Cyrus noted, with Tentacruel faces moulded into the side of them and a pair of tentacles forming the handles. The bright colours did not make it less painful to look at.</p><p>Cyrus poked at the mug with one finger. "<em>Why</em>."</p><p>Cynthia sat across from him and raised an eyebrow as she cradled her mug, breathing in the steam. "They were a gift."</p><p>"What tasteless person would gift such—" Cyrus caught the edge of the smile not entirely hidden by her mug. "—It was that child, Barry."</p><p>"The boy was under the impression that it was my birthday. I told him that he was two months early, but he said that he'd better still give them to me now, otherwise he'd forget."</p><p>Cyrus glared flatly at her. "How did he screw that up. Hasn't he known you for <em>years</em> now?"</p><p>Cynthia took a mouthful of tea, half-smile still in place, “He’s doing his best.”</p><p>Grumbling, Cyrus stared into the mug of tea and tried to find the half idea that had been stuck in his head long enough that he’d asked to talk to Cynthia about it. Despite the two weeks of build-up for him and the hour since she’d agreed to chat, he still didn’t know how he was going to explain this. Only one solid idea that was stuck in his head, and it was <em>that</em> driving him here.</p><p>Unwilling to back down and yet unable to just…spit it out.</p><p>He’d been tempted to just…act on this weird desire of his. But that had the potential to end…<em>badly</em>.</p><p>They’d known each other…a couple of decades or more, it must be now. Never close friends but on and off presence.</p><p>Then she’d become Champion, and he’d nearly ended the world.</p><p>And now here they were, years later, sitting down drinking tea in her small kitchen while he mused over if he should let the dragon sleep for another decade.</p><p>They were still not quite friends, but she was the only presence in his life that felt <em>neutral</em>. He had loyal Commanders that were sometimes friends too, far too many enemies, but for all that he’d been and done, Cynthia considered him as what he could be.</p><p>After the time in the distortion realm, she’d asked if he would do that again and accepted his words as a genuine truth.</p><p>Even his Commanders hadn’t done that.</p><p>“—So, tell me. What is this about?” Cynthia asked, jarring him from his thoughts. “You turn up in the middle of the evening, with no warning, and tell me you need to tell me something. I’ve got the time for almost anything now that I’ve finished with my work. Speak your mind, Cyrus. What is this about?”</p><p>Cyrus flinched a little and stared down the void of his own mind, and came to a split-second decision.</p><p>At the least, Cynthia knew how to make a clean cut. There’s no one else he’d trust to do this as cleanly and painlessly.</p><p>“I want to kiss you.” He said, staring at the mug so he didn’t have to meet her eyes.</p><p>“…What?” Cynthia didn’t sound offended or disgusted, but she did sound bemused. That was better than he’d anticipated. “Why?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Cyrus told the mug, with its goggle-eyed Tentacruel. “But won’t leave my head, and I knew that if told you about it, you could reject me viciously enough for me to be able to forget it.”</p><p>There was the click of a mug being placed on the table, followed by the rap-tap-tapping of her fingernails on the wood.</p><p>Cynthia had apparently decided to give this proper consideration, which did nothing to make him feel better about how this would end.</p><p>“I didn’t think that you cared for anything involving bodily contact,” Cynthia said thoughtfully. “You flinch when people try to shake your hand. Kissing can be quite messy.”</p><p>“You’d have more experience at that than <em>me</em>.”</p><p>That drew forth a laugh, and Cyrus glanced up, confused by the sound to see that Cynthia giving him an incredulous stare. “How much experience do you think I’ve had, Cyrus?”</p><p>“…More than me?” He repeated, uncertain but sticking to his point even as Cynthia rolled her eyes to the roof.</p><p>“I mean, you’re technically not wrong, but that’s not exactly <em>hard.</em>”</p><p>“…But you must have <em>some</em> experience; you’re so confident—”</p><p>“Cyrus. Confidence does not equal sex. Besides, I’ve never really got anything out of it, and as for the rest—” Cynthia winced a little and looked away. “Well. People tend to get uncomfortable with me, and I didn’t like that I had to stop being myself. And there was always a demand that I…get involved.”</p><p>Cyrus frowned, trying to unpick the meaning behind that and unable to manage it. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.</p><p>Cynthia sighed and pressed her fingers into the side of her head. “…May I ask you a question first?”</p><p>“…Go ahead,” Cyrus replied after a pause where he prepared for the worst.</p><p>“Do you love me?” She asked tone and body language casual in a way that seemed completely genuine.</p><p>It was such a straightforward question, and it reminded Cyrus who he was talking to. This was Cynthia. She was the only person he knew would take this and dissect it and decide if it was a worthy question on a logical and impersonal level.</p><p>“No.” He replied and noticed that she still relaxed a little at the confession as calm as she’d appeared. “I…I feel something for you, but I’m sure it’s not love. Not proper love. I…I don’t know if I can feel that. And I’m not entirely sure that would be a good thing if I could.”</p><p>Cynthia nodded slowly. “Well, that makes this easier. Do you feel possessive of me?”</p><p>Cyrus blanched, “Why the <em>hell </em>would I put that on you?”</p><p>“I just wanted to check,” Cynthia said a little too dismissively for his taste, considering the unpleasantness of the question. “Do you desire anything but a kiss from me?”</p><p>“I want whatever you want to give me,” Cyrus replied without pausing to consider if that was a wise thing to say. The questions were coming to rapid-fire for him to do anything but answer directly and honestly.</p><p>Leaning an elbow on the table, Cynthia frowned a little. “Do you want to be in control?”</p><p>“No. I want what you want to give. Nothing else. I…” Cyrus squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to pull his spinning thoughts together into a form he could speak. “I did not anticipate that you’d…agree. I have not considered much further than a kiss. It seemed… disrespectful.”</p><p>Surprise crossed her face, followed by a smile that seemed weirdly soft. “Ah. Well. I’m… I’m not trying to push you here. It’s easier to think about these things in terms of raw mechanics. I don’t think I get the same pleasure from sex as other people, and I…I don’t want romance either.”</p><p>Cyrus stared. “Why? I know that I’m broken in the head; why would you have that lack too?”</p><p>“I feel plenty of the other sorts of love, but I’ve no need for…” She tapped her fingers on the table again, the noise dragging Cyrus’s attention down to her long narrow fingers moving in perfectly timed rhythm.</p><p>The gap dragged out, and Cyrus leaned forward, trying to read what she was thinking from her face alone. “No need for...?” He prompted.</p><p>There were a lot of things that Cyrus never got, things that left him lost and angry, and that she understood without even needing to try. That she was also left outside this question…</p><p>“…I don’t understand why I must feel things I don’t want to.” She finished at last. “Do you think I’m broken, Cyrus?”</p><p>“No? Why would I think that?” he asked, wary of an attack suddenly.</p><p>“You think that you’re broken.” She said, pointing a finger at him, “And you still feel the urge to kiss and touch people. I don’t even feel that. Does that make me broken?”</p><p>Cyrus considered that. “No…I don’t. But I’ve got things missing that have nothing to do with…that. It’s not a comment on other people. Or you.”</p><p>Cynthia stared, eyes partly hidden in the low light. “I see.”</p><p>“I suppose that at least answers my question—” Cyrus began, poking the mug so that it lined up symmetrically with the edge of the table.</p><p>“Which question?” Cynthia cut in.</p><p>Unable to resist the urge, Cyrus rolled his eyes. “The question of if I can kiss you. I assume that means that answer is no.”</p><p>“No, it doesn’t.” Cynthia stood, her movement smooth. “I never said that I didn’t find <em>interest</em> in kissing. And I’ve not had enough of a chance to test it, if I’m honest too. I just said that my lack of attraction turned people off me. Do you still want to try this, knowing that I feel no attraction to you?”</p><p>“Yes?” Cyrus replied, unsure why this was a question at all.</p><p>If she was willing to deal with his emotion, that were either all-encompassing or nonexistent, why wouldn’t he do her the same favour? If she wasn’t going to ask that he be anything but what he was, why wouldn’t he give her the same courtesy?</p><p>Cynthia rounded the table, and Cyrus pushed back his chair, getting ready to stand to meet her. A hand landed on his shoulder, pressing down to keep him sitting.</p><p>Cynthia leaned down, face curious, despite her slightly narrowed eyes.</p><p>She was now close enough for Cyrus to feel the heat of her breath, and the hand on his shoulder felt almost painfully distracting now.</p><p>Physical contact was always uncomfortable boarding on painful. With Cynthia, it wasn’t quite as bad, but it was still <em>almost</em> too much. Like someone had clawed open his skin and was poking about at his organs. Pressing fingers into his heart, lunges, and holding them cupped in her hands. But she already knew what was inside him.</p><p>She’d accepted him and asked for nothing that wasn’t there. She was ambivalent about the emptiness.</p><p>And while his mind spiralled off and his skin prickled with awareness, Cynthia kissed him.</p><p>It was chaste and simple, without flare or depth, but despite that, it still burned until she broke contact, leaning back, her expression thoughtful. There was a flash of her tongue as she traced her lip, and Cyrus’s attention flickered down at the movement and back up to her eyes.</p><p>The heat of his face felt almost consuming, but for all that, he held still, waiting to see what she’d do next. Cynthia’s hand slipped up into the back of his hair and pulled it together in a loose grip, a seemingly absent gesture on her part.</p><p>“Did you…get anything out of that?” Cyrus asked a moment later because he might want to try and wait, but the urge to demand she just speak already was too much to resist.</p><p>“I’m not sure.” Cynthia frowned, pulling Cyrus closer so that he had to lean up to meet her when she kissed him for the second time.</p><p>This was a little deeper, a hint of tongue and warmth and teeth. The grip in his hair tightened, and the increasing tension forced his chin up. The answering tug of arousal was intense as it was sudden, and his mouth fell a little further open into the kiss as his breath caught.</p><p>Cynthia paused and pulled back, her hand immediately loosening its grip. Leaving a gap of quiet as she observed Cyrus and asked, “How did that feel?”</p><p>Trying to decide if he wanted pain or pleasure was a hard line to find even on good days. But it had felt like <em>something</em>, and that was enough for him.</p><p>Cyrus took the initiative and kissed her back, light enough to barely last a breath, instead of answering directly.</p><p>Cynthia's eyebrows rose as she contemplated him, her breath hot against his lips as she stayed hovering deep within the boundaries of his personal space.</p><p>Slowly and deliberately, she gathered his hair back into a fist, tightening it inch by inch.</p><p>Cyrus’s breath caught again as he instinctively tried to keep his head level, only to find that Cynthia was strong enough that she didn’t even appear to notice as she forcefully raised his chin. There was a following prick against the edge of the neckline of his shirt. He felt the prick of a fingernail dragging up his throat, over his adam’s apple, and to come to rest under his chin, tipping it even further up.</p><p>A hash breath escaped before he could stop it, and his body shivered with the effort of holding still.</p><p>“You know, Cyrus?” She said softly. “You look quite nice like this; I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this shade of red before. It suits you. I don’t know if we’re getting the same thing out of this, but I do think that I like seeing you like this.”</p><p>“I—you should not do something that doesn’t bring you any, uh, pleasure. That is—” Cyrus managed to say, voice almost clear through the stutter.</p><p>“Have every ever known me to do something I didn’t want?” Cynthia said, the edge of her nail tracing the underside of his chin.</p><p>“But if you don’t get aroused—”</p><p>Cynthia scrunched up her nose. “If you were someone else, I’d try and tell you a metaphor about pleasure gained from staring at a beautiful sunset, but I have this feeling that—”</p><p>“I didn’t know you got pleasure from boredom.” Cyrus interrupted, and the hand pulled tighter in his hair, leaving a prickling of pain in its wake.</p><p>“How did I know you’d say that?” Cynthia asked flatly against his skin, hot air rushing over his throat, followed by the bare scrape of teeth.</p><p>“Because you’ve got a working memory and know I’ve no patience for metaphor.” Cyrus felt his breath speed up as the teeth rested against the edge of his jaw for a bare second.</p><p>“It really is easier to explain with metaphor, though,” Cynthia complained, her hot breath vanishing as she stepped about the chair to stand behind him. Her hands resettled, one buried in his hair and the other cupping his chin.</p><p>“You told me once that you despised vague language and metaphor. I wonder what happened to that person so that she became you.” Cyrus said and was rewarded by Cynthia yanking his head back, not unkindly, but certainly with purpose.</p><p>“There is a distinct difference between using vague language without purpose and using it because it’s the only neat way to describe a problem. I’m doing the latter or <em>would</em> be doing so if you weren’t so troublesome.” She said, hooking a finger over his bottom lip and pulling it down. “…I wonder if I could push you enough so that you lose control of that mouth of yours?”</p><p>“I—” Cyrus began, breath shaking in his throat, only for her finger to move between his teeth and softly press down on them until he opened his mouth for her. The finger pressed a little deeper and swirled about his tongue, pressing firmly enough to leave it tingling before coming to rest under his tongue.</p><p>“See, Cyrus, what I like; what brings me, as you so awkwardly put it, pleasure? It isn’t anything to do with <em>me</em>. What I like seeing is <em>you</em>.”</p><p>A second finger joined the first, and they pushed up and over his tongue, caressing it. She held his jaw in place, and he let her tilt his head far enough back to see her watched him from above, with a light smile, as she slid her fingers deeper into his mouth.</p><p>“—I think that I like touching you, but I have no desire for the gesture to be returned. Is that straightforward enough for you?”</p><p>If normal physical contact made him feel flayed alive…Cyrus had no idea how to describe this.</p><p>Cyrus had expected her to take all control. He <em>hoped</em> she’d take control so that there would be no need for him to be involved in the complex give and take that seemed to be the norm for sex. Having things done <em>to</em> him was fine. But having think, to calculate and decide what actions he needed to do in return? That just sounded horribly overwhelming.</p><p>That Cynthia had no desire to be touched back was almost <em>optimal</em>, even if there was a part of him that was a little disappointed.</p><p>However, it wasn’t like she was a bystander here.</p><p>The shadows only further highlighted Cynthia’s dark eyes, and he was almost helpless with the slowly growing arousal as she pinned him with that stare. The way that she’d taken all choice, all control, and how she could do anything to him, and he found himself ready let her do that.</p><p>And all this was just from her using a few fingers in his <em>mouth</em> of all things—</p><p>It was <em>nothing</em> like he’d expected Cynthia to be like.</p><p>She pressed her fingers deeper, her eyes watching him with almost casual interest as if she was proving a minor point in an argument rather than fingering his tongue.</p><p>Then she went a little too deep and hit his gag reflex, and he found himself jerking out of her grip, hand to his mouth to stop the coughing.</p><p>The hands disappeared instantly from his skin as she jerked back. “Ah, <em>damn it</em>, sorry Cyrus, I didn’t mean to hurt you I—I think I got a little carried away there. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that <em>thoughtlessly</em>—”</p><p>It took several moments for Cyrus to manage to pull his mind back, wiping the spit from his mouth and trying to remember that he needed to respond or at least try to start breathing again. Cyrus felt shaky even as his tongue still buzzed, and he shook himself, trying to push back down the arousal.</p><p>He was <em>very</em> good at suppressing his emotions, but arousal was a new one.</p><p>He looked back up to see Cynthia standing before him, expression a little concerned and a hand half held out, hovering uncertainly in the air. Her fingers were still wet from being inside his mouth and glistened in the low light.</p><p>“I wasn’t fighting back, if you’d noticed that.” He tried and swallowing hard, eyes still on her fingers.</p><p>“You don’t tend to, Cyrus. You flop.” Cynthia cut back, eyes narrowing as they traced up and down his body only to pause at waist level. “…I did not anticipate that you’d react that fast. You…enjoyed that?”</p><p>Cyrus flushed red, feeling himself grow hot as he pulled his hands up to try and cover himself.</p><p>When he risked meeting her face, he noted that there was red across her cheeks too, and she was pointedly looking away from him.</p><p>“…I’m sorry. I…I sometimes get a bit carried away. I know that I can be a lot. This is why I’m not good at this…But even so I shouldn’t have pushed you that much. I’m sorry.” She told the far wall.</p><p>It was a little surreal to hear Cynthia apologizing. Cyrus stared, trying to figure out why she was acting weird about this <em>after</em> trying to pin down his tongue with her fingers.</p><p>He’d very obvious <em>not </em>complained about it, after all.</p><p>“I really do not want to have to…decide if I liked that? It’s much easier to just…accept whatever you do and think about it never. I did tell you I’d take anything you’d give me.” Cyrus said, still feeling like he was a little on fire from her touch.</p><p>He was desperate to convince her to touch him again and unsure if he could ask for that directly. The best he could do was imply and let her decide whether to reach out again.</p><p>Cynthia pushed her hair back, still not meeting his eyes. “Cyrus, that’s <em>not</em> how this should work—”</p><p>“I don’t care. Just do what you want to me.”</p><p>“<em>Cyrus</em>—”</p><p>“Cynthia.” He retorted, narrowing his eyes at her. “Do <em>whatever</em> you want to me. I don’t care… If you don’t find this uncomfortable, that is.”</p><p>That got her to look back at him, her eyes dragging down his body pointedly. Daring him to back down from his assertion. Cyrus’s ears grew hot, but he held her gaze, determined that he would not be the first to look away.</p><p>Cynthia took a quick step forward, as if daring him to flinch. Cyrus managed to smirk a little because he’d found there were few other ways to annoy her faster. The expression always felt a bit unnatural to him, but he knew he’d gotten the reaction he wanted when irritation flashed over Cynthia’s face.</p><p>She pushed into his personal space to place a knee between his legs, resting on the chair’s base. Not quite close enough to touch him, but close enough to feel the heat of her body as she leaned over him. Her long hair brushed his shoulder and tickled the side of his cheek, the two of them still yet to break eye contact.</p><p>A hand grasped the back of his head, tangled tight in his hair, and pulled back his head. “You’re a little stupid for saying that. I could do terrible things to you, you know?”</p><p>Cyrus was almost as surprised as she was by the dry laugh that startled from him. “<em>Cynthia</em>.” He replied flatly, raising an eyebrow at her, “I’ve never met someone more <em>painfully</em> moral then you. I think I’ll survive.”</p><p>There was a slight flush at that, and she glared a little. “I’m <em>not</em> that good a person, Cyrus.”</p><p>“Yes, you are.” He said, tone light. “You’re the one that saw the weird orphan that followed me home and decided to make up a bed for him within thirty minutes of meeting him.”</p><p>This time when she yanked his head back, it stung a little. “Ah, but you forget that <em>you</em> were the one who brought Saturn home to start with. And the one who kept him as your commander, in the end.”</p><p>“I didn’t do it with goodwill. It was just too much trouble to make him leave.” Cyrus argued, a little breathless at the pain.</p><p>“So, when I do something, it’s because I’m a good person, but when you do it, it’s laziness?” She was taller like this, and he would have had to look up to see her face even if she wasn’t holding his chin up. But then again, she’d always <em>felt</em> taller, even if he knew intellectually that he was almost a foot taller then her standing.</p><p>“Yes.” He answered, just to see what she’d do to him for saying it.</p><p>She snorted and cupped a hand around the edge of his jaw, fingers resting tantalizingly close to his lips.</p><p>Impulsively he opened his mouth and tried to taste her fingers with the edge of his tongue. She responded by slipping her fingers deep into his mouth and settling them under his tongue. Even keeping them away from the back of his throat, the three fingers all but invaded his mouth, holding his jaw open and exploring the tender softness under his tongue.</p><p>Cynthia pinned him under a considering stare, and his breath grew unsteady again, accepting the attention that felt so much more intense than her touch.</p><p>“This really is doing something for you, isn’t it?” She mused, gently pinning back his tongue for a moment. “I could say that it’s weird, but that would mean you could say that same thing back since it’s equally clear that I’m also getting something out of this. At least you can say you’re getting sexual gratification.”</p><p>The drag of her fingers under his tongue, held on an angle that he couldn’t quite reach, pulled a whimper out of him. He accidentally squeezed the knee she had resting on the edge of the chair when he tried to press his legs together.</p><p>She looked down, considering the hands partly covering his lap and the flex of his legs as he fought the spiking arousal. “If I shifted my knee forward, you’d get some relief then, I think. But I’ll only do it if you move your hands. If you don’t, that’s fine. I’ll find somewhere else to touch you.”</p><p>Cyrus considered the question and the dull ache of arousal. There was little but a blank void where his own wants were, but that was normal. There was nothing explicitly against this idea. That was enough.</p><p>Slowly he moved his hands to rest on his thighs, and after a pause, Cynthia shifted her leg forward so that it was flush against him.</p><p>Her leg's shape was firm, but squeezing his thighs around her made her feel soft too. He almost bit her fingers as he tried to suppress the whine of pleasure. Her fingers, slippery and wet, traced his mouth as he bit his lip and arched into the warm flesh pressing against him.</p><p>“Good boy, Cyrus,” she said, and he realized that he’d closed his eyes at some point. Blinking them open, he found her watching him with almost predatory interest. “You’re <em>lovely</em> like this. All flushed and needy with your lips wrapped around my fingers so sweetly…”</p><p>The fingers plunged back into his mouth, and she rocked her thigh against him in a slow, drawn-out motion. Rubbed back and forth again his tongue, and he found himself closing his lips about her fingers, sucking on them, and trying to keep hold of them even as she kept pulling back only to go even deeper with the next plunge.</p><p>With his mouth full, it thankfully helped hide the worst of the noises he was making as Cynthia continued the painfully slow rocking against him. He needed more, even as this felt like more then he’d <em>ever</em> be able to cope with.</p><p>He found himself trying to chase her fingers so that they’d help keep him quiet, only for the hand in his hair to tighten sharply, holding his head in place and leaving his mouth feeling empty with loss and nothing present to stop the moan that followed.</p><p>His lips where wet and hot as she traced them, his head held firmly in place, tilted back and throat on display for her.</p><p>“Does this feel good, Cyrus?” She asked and pressed her knee against him harder.</p><p>“Ah, I-I- Please, I—”</p><p>“Please what?” Cynthia asked as her fingers, wet with spit, rested against his equally wet lips.</p><p>“—I don’t know!” he managed, as that rocking continued, pushing him a little further with ‘not enough’ with every movement.</p><p>The fingers plunged back in, deep and all but holding his mouth open as she traced out the inside, leaving his tongue pinned and spit dripping from the corners of his mouth.</p><p>“I suppose that I’ll keep doing this then until you figure it out.” She said, fingers dragging back against the top of his mouth.</p><p>Cyrus whined, mouth too far open to suppress the sound, his fingers digging into his legs as he fought to keep them still. Cynthia had said she didn’t want to be touched, had <em>told</em> him that, and he wasn’t going to risk touching without permission.</p><p>He <em>needed</em> her to either stop or increase the pressure. He needed <em>something</em> and had no idea which one he wanted to ask for. Even if he did stop her, he wasn’t sure which he’d ask for.</p><p>She was half pressed into him now, from her knee to her stomach. With his head pressed into the back of the chair, he could see her face clearly.</p><p>It was enough so that when her lips pursed and her eyebrows pulled together, he noticed instantly. The hand that had been pulled taut in his hair loosened a little. Cynthia rubbed soft circles into his head with the tips of her fingers, eyes narrowing with something a bit like worry.</p><p>“Ah, Cyrus, did I that get to be too much there—?” She asked.</p><p>This time when she tried to pull her fingers from his mouth, he could chase them, and in a fit of desperation that broke the no-touching rule, Cyrus took hold of her wrist as he returned her first two fingers to his mouth.</p><p>He did <em>not</em> want to have to talk, to think, to be forced to articulate what he did and didn’t like. He felt flayed alive and desperate, but if he didn’t have to think, it was <em>fine</em>. Cynthia could break him however she wanted, do whatever brought her pleasure, and so long as he didn’t have to have an opinion on it, everything was <em>fine</em>.</p><p>This time the fingers all petted his tongue, staying shallow only just inside his lips, rubbing small circles into it as Cynthia cradled the back of his head. The soft touches stroking through his hair, behind his ears and along his jaw were electric as she kept him lightly pinned to the chair with her full body weight resting against him.</p><p>The lack of movement meant that the arousal, while still burning him, wasn’t overwhelming him now. Only the steady pressure of her knee between his legs, keeping them open, and him near that edge. But it was a gentler build now and less painful, as she played with his hair and fondled his tongue almost gently.</p><p>He felt the soft sigh and noted her face relaxing a little, the only sign that she’d been tense in the first place. He stilled, eyeing her, wondering why she’d been concerned, and if he’d done something wrong before she shifted her hand, he remembered he was touching her.</p><p>“It’s fine; keep going.”</p><p>Taking a slightly better hold of her wrist, he waited to see if this was allowed to move her hand himself.</p><p>“Do it. Show me what you want.” Cynthia said, sounding a little breathless, her fingers stilling.</p><p>That almost sounded like control, but he was still doing it by her permission alone, which meant it was fine.</p><p>Slowly he experimented, pulling her fingers to rest their tips against his lips and thrust them back in as deep as he could take them just to see what it would feel like. His mouth burned with the sensation and holding her wrist like this, he could feel the flex and twitch of her tendons as she continued to lightly stroke the tip of his tongue.</p><p>The pads of her fingers were rough, now he had the time to test that. Her fingers flexed, and the vague interest of what this felt like for her, crossed his mind. The thought was impulsive, but he was sure that if she’d object to this, she’d stop him.</p><p>Cyrus pulled her fingers to his lips again, tangled his first two fingers with hers and took all four of them back into his mouth. Not deep, but with two hands meshed together, it wasn’t like that would have worked well anyway.</p><p>His fingers where dry compared to her wet ones, but that was only a problem for a moment before his spit drenched his own hand as it had hers. He pushed his tongue forward, tracing around her fingers and his own, holding the fingers just beyond his teeth. Lapping and circling the tips of their fingers and tracing their shapes with the tip of his tongue. It felt odd, but almost everything about this did. He’d no desire to figure the motivation behind these desires anymore then he wanted Cynthia to question him on them.</p><p>As he stayed, stuck on mapping out the sensations, Cynthia pivoted forward, grinding into him with her leg, and he shuddered, leaning into her back.</p><p>“You look <em>wrecked, </em>Cyrus.” Cynthia purred, still petting his hair as their fingers played with his tongue. “And you’ve not even cum yet. I wonder if this is enough for you, or if I’m going to spend the next ten minutes pushing you closer and closer but leave you unable to find that relief because there’s simply not enough friction? And there you’re stuck, sucking on my fingers, desperately trying to find relief by fucking your mouth just to get a little more pleasure. I wonder how you’ll look after another thirty minutes. How long could I hold you here before you start crying from need, I wonder?”</p><p>She punctuated this by speeding up her rocking, the soft, yielding flesh of her knee burning hot between his legs. The soft flesh met his stiff need, along with the wetness inside the layers of his clothes between him and her.</p><p>A sob shook him, and he tried to increase the fiction against his tongue, needing the feeling and the fullness. He <em>ached</em> with pleasure, with the tight wetness that was only made worse by the slow, unstoppable grinding that he was now answering. His hips jerked as he tried to match her movement.</p><p>“So needy, so wet, so <em>desperate</em>,” Cynthia said, her voice soft in his ear. “Your mouth full with my fingers, and yet you still need more enough to push your own in after them. You look like I’ve fucked you, and yet I’ve done almost nothing at all.”</p><p>Mewling, he jerked, pressure building to a peak as he tried to find it, Cynthia’s voice the only point he could focus on.</p><p>“I can feel you leaking, you know.” She said and shifted her knee up just a little to better grind into him. “Making a mess with how much you <em>need</em> this. Come on, close those cute lips of yours, and we’ll see if that helps you cum- ah, <em>good boy</em>, there you go. Suck harder, come on, show me how much you <em>need</em> this.”</p><p>He felt himself twitch, whimpers and whines now constant even with his lips closed as best he could over the fingers fucking over and under his tongue. Cynthia started thrusting their fingers in and out, fast and jerkily, as he struggled to move in time with her.</p><p>His chin was wet now, and the slick back and forth movement of their fingers loud enough to be audible. The hand cradling the back of his head gently took hold of his hair again, holding him in place, but not enough so that he couldn’t arch into each thrust.</p><p>The grinding between his legs was focused now, moving in small, tight circles as he twitched under the pleasure that was now burning him alive.</p><p>Cynthia pulled her hand tight in his hair, and he moaned into the fingers filling his mouth. “You’re doing so well, suck a little harder, you’re nearly there.”</p><p>This wasn’t flayed alive, with was <em>cut open</em>. But it also felt like Cynthia was holding him together despite the open wounds. Like the broken pieces normally caged deep inside him were being kept safe by her, even as she was the one to expose them.</p><p>Her fingers pinched lightly at the underside of his tongue, and she leaned her leg back just a little. “Now, come on, there’s the room, get yourself off.”</p><p>Cyrus’s hips jerked forward, clenching and grinding against her in broke movements fueled by nothing by need. His clothes chafed, and the angle kept being just a little off. A broken sob escaped him as he failed to find the friction needed.</p><p>“—Damn it, still not enough, but you must be very close—” Her fingers pulled out of his mouth, leaving his behind, and she pushed her hand down into the gap left by her leg.</p><p>Cupping into him, she ground the palm of her hand firmly against the tight confines that ached with arousal so much that it almost <em>hurt</em>. Cyrus could hear himself whimpering and bit down hard onto his fingers, letting the tangible pain help keep his mind in place.</p><p>“Come on, Cyrus, come on, you’re nearly there,” Cynthia murmured into his hair and then lower into the corner of his jaw. “Good boy, Cyrus, you’re doing <em>very</em> well, just a <em>little</em> more—”</p><p>He came, almost doubling over as the pressure finally broke, leaving him trembling and twitching into her hand. Biting down on his fingers hard enough to hurt helped, along with her hand buried in his hair, keeping his forehead pressed into her shoulder.</p><p>Cynthia kept up the grinding of her palm against him but lightened the touch as he shuddered to stillness, panting against her. Forcing his teeth apart, he pulled his aching fingers free, glad it was his fingers and not hers.  </p><p>“—Very good, Cyrus. You’re being very good for me. There you go, just <em>breath</em>, it’s fine. You’re fine. I’ve got you. <em>Breath</em>—”</p><p>He kept his face buried in her shoulder, concentrating on breathing and her voice. The fingers in his hair where lightly petting him now, soft, gentle and soothing.</p><p>Her weight against him felt all-encompassing, soft even as she felt like the pillar holding up the sky. He was optional to her, superfluous even if she still offered this much to him.</p><p>“…That didn’t quite go as I expected.” He heard Cynthia muse, feeling her voice vibrating in her chest.</p><p>Cyrus snorted, his breath shuddering, and he turned his head to press deeper into the crook of her neck.</p><p>Cynthia poked him in the ear. “It’s not like I’ve done that before. I think you bring out the worst in me.”</p><p>“I find it hard to believe you’re not always <em>entirely</em> in control.”</p><p>“Oh, I <em>am</em>.” He felt her amused hum, and Cynthia started smoothing out his hair. “I was referring to the sex part. If that counted, that is. I’ve never seen a clear guide on the issue to outline what is and isn’t sex.”</p><p>Cyrus opened his eyes, frowning into the black of her shirt. “…I thought you had done this before?”</p><p>“I said that people disagreed with how I wanted to do this,” Cynthia replied, tone casual. “I thought that implied how that situation ended. I refuse to make myself perform for someone who won’t respect my comfort to start with.”</p><p>“Ah.” Cyrus blinked hard a few times.</p><p>That….<em>had</em> been implied, if you looked at it that way. He’d been too tied up to think through what she’d been saying and what was implied.</p><p>“I…was your first time then?” He asked slow</p><p>The hand is his hair stilled. “I suppose. You’re not going to be weird about it, are you?”</p><p>“I mean, it was my first time as well?” Cyrus replied slowly. “And I know that you do what you want, when you want.”</p><p>He felt a kiss being pressed into his head in an oddly soft gesture. “I didn’t think that you’d care, but some people are annoying focused on such matters. Not that it’s any of their buinness I feel.”</p><p>Cyrus hummed back, uncertain what he was meant to add to that but trying to sound like he agreed.</p><p>The nearly destroying the world thing in his twenties meant that people had an abundance of things that they could and did comment on that wasn’t his sexual activity or lack thereof.</p><p>“Ah, my back <em>hurts</em>,” Cynitha muttered into his hair and pulled back her leg from between his. “This was a <em>terrible</em> position.”</p><p>“I’m sorry—”</p><p>“I chose it. I must pay the price.” She replied and pushed against his legs until he pressed them together. Sitting sideways over his legs, she kept hold of him, stilling rubbing circles into his scalp as she said. “That was definitely interesting at least.”</p><p>“…Can I touch you? I’d like to…hold you, if I’m allowed—”</p><p>“You’re allowed,” Cynthia said, interrupting him before he’d even pulled the thought together. “You’re allowed to do most things you want. You’ve not made me uncomfortable yet, and if you do, I’ll let you know.”</p><p>Cyrus wrapped an arm carefully about her shoulders and the other about her waist, and Cynthia settled firmly against him, crossing her legs as she did so. For a second, Cyrus wondered if the chair was strong enough for both of them. But it hadn’t broken yet, so it was likely strong enough for this.</p><p>This felt intense as what had come before. It hurt, but there was comfort in the pain.</p><p>He’d expected nothing, after all, and this was far better than that.</p><p>“…Would you want to do that again?” Cynthia asked, absently winding a finger into the hair on his nape.</p><p>“I…I’ll take whatever you give me,” Cyrus repeated after only a moment’s pause. “You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll only say yes.”</p><p>“…Understood. I’m going to have to be very careful because you’ll never give me any indication of it you truly enjoy it.”</p><p>Cyrus dug his fingers into her shoulder and the soft fold of fat at her waist. “I mean what I said with complete sincerity.”</p><p>“And so do I,” Cynthia replied and tugged at his hair, but not painfully so. “Ah. At least I’m smart enough for both of us. Even if I don’t want love, and you don’t know how to feel it, I think we’re still doing fine. For us.”</p><p>“…You’re sure?” He asked. “Why would you want to do that again if neither of us loves the other?”</p><p>She leaned back and rested the point of her elbow into his shoulder so she could use her hand to hold up her chin. “Why did you ask me to kiss you if you didn’t love me?”</p><p>“Because…” Cyrus frowned and looked down. He still felt shaky, like his brain was still remembering how his limbs worked. But he’d felt the edge of that question at the start, and this time he readied the answer that he wasn’t sure was worth much.</p><p>But it was all he had to offer.</p><p>“…Because I wanted to. I wanted something. I didn’t think you’d respond. I’m not a good enough person for love, Cynthia—”</p><p>Cynthia shocked him by clicking her tongue and interrupting him. “No. I refuse to allow others to dictate what is good enough for them. Tell me what <em>you</em> want, not what you think you should or shouldn’t want. I might not be able to give it to you, but I will listen. I promise that much.”</p><p>“…I hoped for companionship.”</p><p>Expression settled a little as Cynthia kept watching him, “Something more than our friendship but different to love?”</p><p>“…We’re friends?” he asked, sudden adrift as he stared back. “When? <em>Why</em>? I don’t—”</p><p>Alarm filtered through her face. “But you <em>must </em>have known that; how could you not have known that?”</p><p>“You never implied anything but <em>apathy</em> toward me, after everything and I…” he trailed off, unsure and helpless again.</p><p>“Cyrus. You use to be my friend, then you lost that when you betrayed me. I can’t say that I forgave you, but you’ve changed despite that. That’s enough. You’re more then you were. And now we’re…” She frowned. “Perhaps I misspoke. We’re something. You’re not mine, but you’re…of mine.”</p><p>“But <em>why</em>?”</p><p>“Why not?” Cynthia replied flippantly. “And as for your desire…companionship. Mm. I think that we might find something there that suits us both…would that suit you, Cyrus?”</p><p>Cyrus stared at her passive face touched with thought as her gaze, in turn, fixed at some point in the distance. In the low light, with the cool air outside the house, Cynthia was warm where she leaned against him, and sitting here, leaching heat off her, he could almost feel that he was warm too.</p><p>“...I think that it would suit me if you wished it to be so.”</p><p>Cynthia's eyes snapped back to him as she smiled. “Then it’s a good thing I always know what I want, isn’t it?”</p><p>Cyrus managed to smile back, and let himself feel warm in her light. “...I suppose it is.”</p>
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